


Immunity

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode Related, Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-06
Updated: 2011-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:30:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The world isn't right without Kate in it," Neal repeated, "but you make it better. Not whole, but—better."</p><p>Episode tag for 2.11.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immunity

Mozzie's bendy-straw fractal lay innocently on the table. It was hard to believe people had died for it. Peter traced out the pattern, as if he could make it give up its secrets the same way Neal had revealed his, but the fractal model was just straws. They had to build it properly before it could lead them to the heart of the mystery. "Something worth all this."

"It's worth it to Adler," said Neal.

Peter nodded. "Then I guess we have to find it first."

The sky was starting to lighten, making the wooden tabletop glow eerily. Neal stood up and stretched. "Well—"

Peter found himself holding his breath. It had been a long night, digging through the past like archaeologists, laying out the jigsaw puzzle pieces of their history for each to see. Neal had been more forthcoming than Peter dreamed possible, and though tired, Peter was reluctant to pick up his badge, declare the amnesty at an end and go home to sleep. Once this night was over, they'd resume their regular working dynamic, and all this would evaporate with the dregs in those beer bottles and Neal's wine glass.

Still, that was the real world, and Peter wasn't one to shirk his duty. He stood up too and returned Neal's weary smile. "Thank you."

Neal's gaze slid away. "We're in this together, right? Vengeance and justice, two sides of the same dime."

"Right." Peter hesitated, then reached out and clasped Neal's shoulder briefly, aware of the lean body beneath the green linen shirt.

Neal stood still, neither tensing nor moving back. "You know, really I should be thanking you," he said. "You didn't have to give me immunity."

"I did if I wanted the whole story," said Peter, dropping his hand to his side. He reviewed the revelations of the night. "It was to protect Mozzie, wasn't it? You didn't tell me anything about yourself that the FBI could prosecute for."

"The Raphael, the scams—" said Neal, but Peter was pretty sure that was a misdirect.

"Neither of which had anything to do with Adler. You could have left them out." Peter studied him carefully. Had Neal asked for immunity because he'd needed to talk freely about Kate, or was there more to his story that he'd backed away from sharing.

Neal reached past him and gathered up the beer bottles, brushing against Peter, making Peter catch his breath. Peter watched as he carried them across to the kitchenette and put them on the counter.

He wanted to smooth his palms down Neal's back, feel his heat through that linen shirt, clasp him by the waist and pull his body close. God, he wanted—He turned blindly and reached for his badge. Where the hell had that come from?

But Neal was there, catching his hand, stopping him. His grip hot and firm. "Wait. Before you—there's something else you should know."

"What is it?" Peter stared down at the table, acutely aware of Neal at his side. If Peter faced him, he'd give himself away, and he couldn't risk the hard-won trust they'd eked out, moment by moment over months and weeks, and the long hours of last night. He could tell Neal a lot of things, make himself look foolish if he had to, but he couldn't admit to that.

Neal swallowed audibly, a faint irregularity in the silence that blanketed the room, and then fingertips landed on Peter's jaw, turning his head, and Neal's mouth found his. A kiss, bold but undemanding, over before Peter could react.

When Neal pulled back, his gaze was steady. "Full immunity. I went to the storage unit that day because I needed to see Kate. She was the one, and I still—the world isn't right without her in it. But I think I wanted you to catch me. I must have. Mozzie and I could have figured out some way to reach her. I could have followed her home from the facility instead of walking into your trap."

"Neal—" Peter's voice was rough. He cleared his throat. "You don't have to—" Tell me this. "It doesn't have to be about—" Desire. Sex.

"The world isn't right without Kate in it," Neal repeated, "but you make it better. Not whole, but—better."

Peter took a deep breath and fought down his attraction. That wasn't what Neal was asking for, not now. Not yet. And there was Elizabeth to consider, his responsibilities to the Bureau. He determinedly recast himself back in the role of mentor and met Neal's eye. "I'm glad."

Neal nodded, understanding, a resigned twist to his mouth, and Peter felt his resolve give, like the dip of a weakened floorboard. He couldn't break down all the structures that stood between them—wouldn't if he could. They both needed those constraints, and there was dangerous work to be done. But he could be Neal's friend. Slowly, giving Neal plenty of time to back away, he tugged Neal into his arms and hugged him, the best comfort he knew how to give. Held him for a few moments, felt him sigh and shift, and then released him and stepped back.

"Okay." Neal's smile was genuine now. "Okay, well—" He picked up Peter's badge and handed it to him. "I've got to get some sleep. My supervisor at work, he's a pretty tough taskmaster, high expectations—you know how it is."

Peter grinned. "Yeah, I should, too." He pulled on his jacket and shoved the badge in his pocket. Then he gestured at Mozzie's fractal. "We've got to get moving on this ASAP. I'll meet you at the office at lunchtime, okay?"

"Okay, partner." Neal showed him to the door, and Peter left to go home to his beloved bed, to Elizabeth and Satchmo and his place in the real world. The natural order of things reasserting itself, as it always did, dispelling the madness of sleep deprivation and ill-timed desire. He didn't hear the door close behind him. He didn't let himself look back.


End file.
